


Turn and Face the Strain

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Multi, Poly!verse, Polyamory, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poly!verse.  An assortment of non-chronological scenes with all kinds of mash-ups centered around the theme of first times/transitions/turning points.  A little bit of angst, some fluff, and a good dose of smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn and Face the Strain

Will falls in love with Mia at Disneyland, and he isn't even sure why it happens here and now.

Oh, sure, they are both huge Disney geeks—all of them are—and it's a beautiful day during a beautiful time of year and they're wearing Mickey and Goofy ears respectively and she's wearing a denim skirt and a polka-dotted blouse with her hair up in a sloppy bun and she is so alive and so beautiful. She drags him around by his hand more than she holds it. She curses like a sailor and points out cute guys and girls to him. They ride the rides and eat overpriced Disney-character shaped food and drink from novelty cups, and he is so grateful that their friends had canceled that he doesn't even know how to express it.

After, they go to one of her favorite bars and get drunk off of margaritas, and then take a cab back to her place. They spend the night talking shit about their worst projects/industry jobs until they fall asleep. The next morning, he decides to stay, even though it's unplanned, and after his first attempt at pancakes sets the fire alarm off they go out for brunch, a walk, and this time she holds his hand properly. They spend the rest of the day having sex slow and sweet, no toys, no power play, just their bodies and the afternoon sun slanted across the floor and Will remembering what it's like to be made breathless by the discovery of another person's shape and feel.

In the weeks that follow, they learn to schedule time just for the two of them, and his phone is constantly pinging with the noise that he's assigned as the ring tone for her number—one of the songs that Mad Moon Riot performs—and Chris notices.

It's little things, mostly—her mentioning that time that Will's mom had called when they'd been out and she'd picked up and had surprised Will by being capable of fielding that without raising a single hair on his mom's brow, the rides that they've given each other, and that afternoon he'd visited her at work without calling ahead and they'd had lunch with a celebrity who she'd been interviewing that he still refuses to name because he knows that Chris doesn't care for him.

Chris gets prickly. Chris gets quiet. And Will knows what that means.

They have it out in a spectacular fashion when something simple sets it off—Will had forgotten something at the store, something that they needed, something that he'd had to go right back for. When he returns Chris is in the kitchen with his hands on his hips and that look on his face that says _I am not happy_ , and it all comes pouring out.

How is it so easy for him to make these changes? Has he been waiting, wallowing in the presence of voids that had needed filling, for something or someone else? Is Chris not enough? All of these moments with her that don't resemble anything Will has ever needed from him—these are the things that Chris doesn't understand, the things that make him worry.

"I've been hurt so many fucking times," he says, scrubbing his hands through his hair, his voice high-pitched with emotion. "I'm not jealous. I wish it were that simple. I'm just scared. What are we doing? Some days I can't remember why we decided that this was something we needed."

"Keyword 'we'," Will says, taking him by the hand and sitting him down at the table. "I'm just making room for them. If we don't do that, then what's the point? Nothing has changed between you and I. Nothing. In fact, I love you more than ever, babe."

It's a work in progress.

 

*

 

It's even worse when Will falls for Darren, because there's a shorter path to comparison between he and Chris.

The thing is, with Darren—with Darren, it's not surprising. Will has seen it coming since more or less day one. From the moment that Darren's intense focus had narrowed on him, he'd felt himself cracking, melting, and tumbling headlong into infatuation, into the greed that comes from getting someone's attention and wanting to keep and deepen it.

Darren is as bright as a sunrise, as offensive as a middle finger, and as sexy as it gets. He likes Will, and Will likes him, and oh, god, the physical lure is almost lewd, it's so immediate. Will wants to put his hands and mouth and cock on this man before he knows anything else about him, and normally it's not like that for him. He likes dating. He likes romance. He likes having it mean something. Living in LA has only reinforced that ideal. With Darren, all of the phases seem to happen at once, and Will allows himself to enjoy being overwhelmed by Darren's energy.

He likes the parts of Darren that Chris can't stand. That's where the problems start.

The difference is, instead of confronting Will, Chris takes it out on Darren, and uses Will as an excuse to do it. Will is downstairs when it blows up—they've all been drinking, which had probably not been the best idea, and he can hear every word.

"I love him. I love him, and he's so—he's so fucking loyal. Do you have any idea how much that man gives of himself to other people? I thought it was too much at first, but now I know him, and he's mine, don't you see that? You have the attention span of a fucking toddler, Darren, you're so frenetic, you're so changeable, and he's—he's crazy about you, he's just gone, and you don't get it, you don't even realize what you have, he's—irreplaceable, he's incredible."

"Fucking seriously?" Darren shouts, and Will hears them stomping around. "Four years and you're still dragging up the same bullshit from that first year, Jesus Christ, Christopher. How many fucking times do I have to prove to you that I've pulled my head out of my ass? How many fucking times do I have to apologize for being a fucking newbie, for being a wide-eyed idiot? You know the shit that I went through when the backlash started, you know how fast I changed my fucking tune, how fast I adjusted, but you never give me a goddamned break, you never just—let me be human, you think you have it so fucking together, you think your way is the only way, well fucking forgive me for slipping up, fucking forgive me for not being perfect like you."

Will can feel the tension from a floor down and a hallway away, and when Chris goes there, both his words and the silence that follows feel like slap.

"You never gave two shits about knowing me," Chris says, "all you wanted was a leg up from a successful gay poster child, you spoiled wannabe."

Will hurts—he hurts so badly at the pain that they are inflicting on each other, and he almost goes up the stairs then and there to intervene. He isn't crazy about being used as a catalyst for their issues coming to a head. He hates the fact that Chris is throwing cheap shots, because he knows that Chris only does that when he's run out of logical things to say, which doesn't make it fair but it does make Will worry. He hates the fact that Darren will be hurt by it.

He wants to fix it. But it's not his fight, and if there's one thing that he's learned from dating three people at once, it's that you can't fix everything in a group setting.

He hears nothing, and then he hears a door slam, footsteps pattering down the hall, another door slamming shut, and then—nothing.

He waits. He hears a door open, and then another and, standing at the top of the staircase, sees Darren and Chris, looking deflated and flushed and like they've both been crying. Darren grabs Chris by the front of his shirt and hauls him down and in to an embrace, and Chris goes. Will can see defeat and regret written all over Chris' face, and the moment that he's being held his shoulders twitch and he's crying again, pushing Darren back into a wall and digging a hand into his hair.

"You're so goddamned unfair to me sometimes, you know that?" Darren asks, staring up at Chris. "I get that this scares the fuck out of you, I get that there's still shit on the table, but god fucking damn, we're all trying. You can't use shit that's supposed to be in the past to keep us from moving into the future, man."

"This isn't about Will," Chris says, leaning against the wall. Darren leans beside him, and they slide down to sit on the carpet side by side.

"Then stop using him as an excuse to lay into me. He's not a fucking object."

"I know. Fuck, I know." Chris closes his eyes. "And he's better at this crap than I am." He laughs. "God, he's so much better that it's almost fucking comical."

They sit in silence, not moving, and Will wants to be with them, but it's not the time.

"Wanting this—us, all of us—is fucking hard for me, sometimes," Chris says. "Half the time I think I shouldn't want it. Half the time I want it so much that I think it can't be healthy. Sometimes, when I look at you, I remember how it felt in the beginning, the emotional quicksand, the fantasies and how they fell apart when I lost my idealism, and how much a part of that you were, and I—"

"I'm not denying that I fucked up, but with you—that's almost a given. Your expectations were so fucking ridged," Darren says, sounding tired. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be drawn to someone but do everything wrong no matter how you try? To be misread at every fucking turn until you're so sick of it that you just stop trying?"

Chris sighs. "Yes. I'm—fuck, I can be an asshole, you know that." He shifts around. "I didn't—I didn't mean that, what I said, back there, I just—I know exactly what to say to hurt you, and I do it, and it feels good for about three seconds, and then I see that look on your face."

"I'm not the person I was," Darren says. "And the person I was wasn't trying to hurt you, either."

"I'm sorry."

"It's taken you a long time to learn how to say that and sound like you mean it, huh?"

"Oh, shut up,” Chris says, smirking.

Will smiles to himself, and leaves them to each other, for the moment.

He knows that they're okay, at least for the moment, when they come home together from set later that week, scrubbed and undone in that “we've had make-up and hair styling products quickly removed” sort of way, and they make out just inside of the front door for a minute or two before coming into the kitchen to greet him in much the same way.

There's a tenderness there that hadn't been present before their fight—careful fingers and Chris leaning down to nuzzle into the crook of Darren's neck and Darren being more careful to put his hands where he knows Chris prefers them—and Will breathes a sigh of relief.

He stops to text to Mia (she replies with "thank fuck :)"), and then pockets his phone.

 

*

 

The aftermath of game night, and the only people left are Will, Mia, and Chris (Darren had had a thing), and they're sitting on the rug in front of the couch, the last of the wine in their glasses, Mia's head on Will's lap and her legs on Chris'. They're not quite so drunk anymore.

"You're so soft," Chris drawls, and then burps into his hand with a smile.

"Is that a formal request for the presentation of my tit pillows?"

Chris laughs, and wobbles forward. "Mm. Maybe."

Will pets her hair and says, in an exaggerated twang, "Subtle he ain't."

She sits up between them and pats the neckline of her top. "Okay, boys. Present cheeks."

The Netflix queue that they're watching ticks from one episode to the next. She takes a close-up on her phone of Chris and Will's mused hair on her chest and sends it to Darren, and Will laughs.

"Cruel."

"He likes it. Trust me."

"I'm sure he does," Chris says, nuzzling his chin against her.

"We're good," she says, stroking their hair, "yeah?"

Chris touches the side of her jaw, tilts her head, and kisses her, softly and carefully and directly on the lips, and Will smiles—just months ago that never would have occurred to Chris to do. There still isn't anything sexual about it, but it's a gesture of love and acceptance and affection, and the fact that it's platonic doesn't make it any less meaningful.

When Chris lets go of her, she immediately turns to capture Will's mouth in a kiss, and he stutters when she fists her hand in his hair and tugs him into her lap. She's tiny, and the positioning should be awkward, but all he feels is want, and the details fail to matter, especially when he sees the glint in Chris' eye that tells him that Chris likes what's happening.

"How about," she drawls, tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants, "we suck your beautiful cock together right now?"

He moans. "Oh, god, yeah."

Chris undoes his belt, and the sight of them working together to get him out of his pants is enough to bring him to half-mast in seconds.

He is the luckiest guy on the planet.

 

*

 

The first time that Will realizes this is a Thing is the night that he has his break-up fight with Sam, and Chris is the first person who texts him after he flees the apartment.

This isn't their first semi-public fight, and it isn't the first time that Will has thought to himself _nothing has been the same between us since Chris started hanging out with us_ , but it's the first time that Chris' name lighting up his phone has sent a thrill of something more than corner-of-your-eye interest through him.

It's not just the text.

Something has been happening for months, even though neither of them has said a word about it beyond the usual harmless flirtation and subtle head to toe check-outs. This should have set off warning bells for Will over the summer, after they'd been introduced by Ashley, but he and Sam had been good and it simply hadn't registered as a problem.

Tonight, after getting his permission, Chris follows him back to his apartment and asks him if he'd like to walk on the beach. He says yes.

It's so easy to be himself around Chris. It's easier than anything that Will has experienced since moving to LA. It's silence without awkwardness, and it's conversation without expectation. It's knowing without knowing how that they simply are alike, in a variety of convenient ways, and where they are different it's good that they are. It's knowing that no matter what he chooses to share, Chris will smile or laugh or nod. It's feeling safe. It's feeling as if he's arrived at his destination and he can rest.

If he were to admit any of this, he isn't sure how Chris would react, though. Chris is looking, he knows that—but he has been looking for much longer and harder and in a way that often scares men away, and if he were to put himself out there, he would be putting himself utterly and completely out there. He doesn't do casual, and he doesn't know what he'd do if that were all Chris could give him.

"Did he leave after I left?" he asks, kicking up sand with his hands in his pockets.

Chris nods. "With a couple of the guys." They walk, and then Chris asks, "Want to talk about it?"

They dodge a roaming dog with a smile, and Will zips up his hoodie. It's getting chilly as the sun goes down. "He cheated on me. Hooked up with some random at a work thing a couple of weeks ago. Says that I'm not invested anymore, and he figured it'd be easier to break it off that way."

"Ouch," Chris says, wincing. "Been there."

 _Haven't we all?_ Will thinks.

"I mean, he's right," Will says, "about me not being invested. I don't—I don't think cheating is ever the right choice. I could never do that to someone. I don't know. It's fucked up, no matter how you look at it."

"Was it serious?"

"I wanted it to be," Will says, stopping to kick at some tufts of grass. "I always feel that way. I don't know how to date like it's just—fun, like it's just a good time."

"He's a nice guy, but yeah—the cheating thing is an instant 'see ya later' for me, too."

Will laughs, jabbing Chris' side. "Of course it is. You must have such an insane dating rulebook."

"Not gonna lie," Chris says, reaching out to snag the finger that Will had jabbed him with, "it's about eighty percent insanity, and not in that fun way."

Will's neck and ears go hot. He stares into Chris' eyes for a moment, and then begins to walk again. "I believe you."

When they reach the parking lot, they shake out their shoes, share a bottle of water, and lean back against Chris' car, their elbows touching.

There's a crackling tension between them, and Will wonders if he should be the one to break it. Sam's news stings and probably will for a while, but it isn't as upsetting as he had thought it might be. Sure, he'll go home and eat some fattening ice cream and make a blog post—which he'll either set to private or delete before it gets posted—and maybe listen to some music or go to the gym to work it off, but he isn't devastated. Whatever he'd had with Sam, it hadn't been headed where he always wants his relationships to head—to permanence, to talk of years to come, to calling his big sister to tell her “I've found him”.

Chris pushes off the car, turns on his heel, and Will looks at him just in time to catch the decisive look on his face before he blurts, "This is the worst timing. I am—I wasn't going to say anything, I was just going to let you go home and tell you I'd text you later and then message you with cat pictures or something but—shit. Shit, fuck, Will. I'm going to Paris the week of New Year's with Pam and Ash. Come with us." He sets his jaw. "Come with me."

"Okay, I get that the offer is sudden and random, but how is it 'the worst timing'?" Will asks.

He's flattered by the invitation—he always forgets that Chris can just do this kind of thing, whisk his friends and family off on vacations without a thought about the expense—and he would love to go to Paris, but he doesn't get why Chris is working himself up over it in a negative way.

"I'm glad that you and Sam are breaking up," Chris says, his face going red. "I am a horrible, horrible friend, but I've been waiting for this since pretty much that first weekend."

Will swallows heavily. "Are you..."

"Come to Paris with me," Chris says, reaching out for Will's waist with both of his hands. "Come to Paris with me and see things with me, see if you like—if you can deal with my life, if—"

"Chris Colfer, are you asking me to Paris on a _date_?" Will asks, giddiness swelling in his chest.

"Too much?" Chris asks, and then twists his mouth. "Not enough?"

"Oh my god, you are insane," Will breathes, and lets Chris tug him closer.

It's never a question what his answer will be.

 

*

 

The first time that Will goes off alone with Darren and Mia, he isn't sure what it's going to be like.

They go to a concert, then out for sushi, and then take a bottle of sake home. Shared, it's just enough to get them buzzed but not drunk.

Will has been with Darren a lot. He's been with Mia often. But he's never been with them both without Chris nearby. Will it be strange? Will he feel like a third wheel?

The moment that they're alone and relaxed, he has no idea why he'd even worried. After a round of showers, hardly an hour later, they're in bed, clothed but making out like teenagers, Will in between them, drowning in kisses and sneaky hands. They are like one person split into two, in perfect sync as they touch him and kiss him and tweak his clothes just enough to make him find that eager edge where he's content to extend the foreplay but also just as willing to let them take his clothes off should they so desire.

"What'd you want?" Darren pants, in the middle of kissing Mia over Will's shoulder.

"Do we need to play count the cocks? What do you think I want?" she asks, grinning and cupping the ridge of Will's dick through his jeans.

Will has no idea what that means, but she's taking her shirt and bra off, so he can't really be blamed for being distracted, can he? He latches on when she tugs him close enough, kissing and nibbling until he finds her nipples, and then that's all that seems to matter, getting them hard and wet and in his mouth yesterday. She undoes his jeans and pushes a hand inside to stroke him. Darren helps him get his jeans and boxers off. He can feel Darren's dick against his naked thigh. He groans. It's almost too good.

Mia pushes Will onto his back, straddles his waist and presses him into the bed, disconnecting his mouth from her nipples. He cups her breasts in his hands instead, squeezing and rolling them. Her skirt is still around her waist, but Darren kneels behind her and pushes it up and kisses down the back of her neck and in between her shoulder blades.

She looks so hot like that, her long hair falling over her naked breasts, and the skirt ruffled up around her waist, Darren peeling her panties down her thighs, looking so far gone into wanting her that he's almost quiet for once. When he slides one wide hand between her thighs, she moans, arches her back and spreads her legs.

"Fuck, you're soaked," Darren hisses, and Will can hear it, sloppy and wet and oh Jesus Christ in heaven he wants it.

She hovers over Will, kisses him rough and dirty and then rasps out when she lets his tongue go, "Wanna fuck me, baby?"

"Shit, yes, please." His mind is a blank of eager desire—he'll do whatever she wants. He just wants to make her come, preferably while he's deep inside of her.

Darren tosses a strip of condoms and a pump-top bottle of lubricant on the bed, and Mia grabs one of the condoms, tears it open with her teeth and reaches down to slide it over Will's erection. Once that's done, she smiles spicy-sweet at him, sliding her fingers down his chest.

"Gorgeous," she whispers, digging her fingernails into his pecs. "Mm." She reaches down and wraps her hand around his dick, pumping it. "Ready?"

He wraps one hand around her hip and rolls his pelvis up. "Shit. Shit, yes."

She sits down onto his cock slowly, pushing the fat width inside of her, her eyes sliding shut with pleasure. Her gorgeous body flexes as she takes it, her skin trembling, her thighs tensing, and when he's all the way in she laughs, her fingers pinching his torso. "Oh, fuck, yes, fucking huge."

Darren unties her skirt and takes it off. Will watches him watch her hips begin to rock, little hitches just to get her body used to the intrusion. Darren is down to his jeans, open at the fly, his dick jutting hard and full out of the zipper, resting on the curve of her ass, and Will's mouth floods with saliva. He'd love to have that dick in his mouth while she rides him, but he has the feeling that she already has a plan for it.

She fucks down around his cock slow and teasing, more using it than anything else, her wetness leaking down to soak his pubic hair. As soon as the friction grows less, she reaches behind her, and Darren is ready for her, wrapping an arm around her waist as she twists back to kiss him, her fingers in his curls and her tongue in his mouth.

"He feel good?" Darren asks, sliding the hand that he has on her waist down between her legs to rub her clit. He stimulates it out of the swollen clasp of her labia, out of its hood, until it's stiff and poking up, and he pins it below his fingertips and strums it.

"Fuck, yes," she hisses, falling forward. Will cranes up to suck and bite at her nipples and neck and jaw, and begins fucking up into her, timing his thrusts with the pace of Darren's fingers. "Shit. Shit. Don't stop. Make me come."

Will stops to watch Darren's fingers on her. They're shiny and slick and moving in a contained little blur between her flushed, swollen pussy lips, grazing her clit in a steady rhythm, making her tits bounce and her stomach tremble, and Will can see her ass rocking back onto Darren's cock like she wants more. She's tight and hot and throbbing, and he knows that she's close.

When she comes she shakes like a leaf through it, her little body snapping in between them like a live wire. The muscular ripple of her pussy is almost enough to send him over the edge but he clamps down on the feeling, content to let her ride him as she gushes a little around him, her hair like a halo blocking out the bedroom's light. He strokes her naked, hot back as she comes down.

Darren takes a moment to give her clit a rest, and leans down over her to kiss Will, who whines and bucks up. She kisses the side of Will's neck, down to his collarbone, and he lets himself be overwhelmed by their touch.

She's still squirming, so Will knows that they aren't done, but he isn't expecting it when she wraps her fingers around Darren's jaw and murmurs, "Put your cock in my ass."

"Oh, fuck," Darren hisses, rutting against her. "Fuck, right now?"

"Right now." She squirms on top of Will, and Will can feel the additional wetness from her orgasm and groans, thrusting up into her. "Go slow, but don't get lazy on me."

Darren grins, kissing her temple as he puts a condom on, squirts a line of lubricant down the length of his cock, and then gathers a handful for her. Will watches Darren's fingers stroke down in between her cheeks, watches her flush and bite her lip and lean forward over his body as Darren rubs her open with long, careful, firm presses until she starts to gasp and rock back.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, that feels fucking good. Shit. Harder."

She tenses when a knuckle's worth slips inside, then relaxes as Darren's whole finger follows, her jaw going slack and her lips parting. Her pussy is throbbing around Will's cock, and he reaches down to rub her stiff clit as Darren twists his finger in and out of her asshole.

"Oh my god, more, come on," she whispers. Another finger, and Will pinches her clit still, and thrums it with the pad of his thumb, feeling her shiver. She slumps down onto her elbows and kisses him, giving him a deliciously clear view of Darren, naked and kneeling behind her, corkscrewing two thick fingers in and out of her.

"Goddamn," he breathes, putting a hand on her lower back, unable to tear his eyes away.

Darren smooths his lubricant-slick fingers over her cheeks and up her lower back, threading his fingers with Will's for just a second.

"Okay?" he asks Will, his cock bobbing over Mia's ass.

"Yeah, yeah, just—don't stop. I'm good."

Mia kisses him again, brushing a sweaty fringe of hair off of his forehead, and he lets himself feel her reactions through the places that they're connected—he feels her tense when Darren presses the crown of his dick against her hole, feels her shake and go still through the slow, wet push of it into her ass, feels Darren inch forward until he's all the way in.

"Fuck," Darren hisses, holding her ass open with both hands. "Fuck, fuck, babe, pinching my dick, fuck, relax."

She groans, pushing up onto her hands, and Will follows to kiss her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, as she flexes and pushes back into Darren.

"Jesus fuck," she groans, rolling her hips. "Oh, shit, fuck, goddamn, move. Fucking move."

When Darren has a rhythm going and she's more relaxed, Will drizzles more lubricant between her cheeks, then inches down and up to push his cock back inside of her.

"Okay?" he asks, pulling her body down. Darren pushes in and he pushes up and—she cries out, rolling her body, pelvis to tits like a snake, her eyes rolling back.

"Perfect," she says. "Oh, god, fuck me. Fuck me, come on. Both of you. Fuck, can feel every inch, feels so good."

It's sloppy and off-rhythm but they make it work, Will using the strength of his torso to fuck up into her, and Darren with his musician's timing, stroking into her flawlessly. She reaches down to stroke her clit, her kiss-swollen mouth half bitten inward, sweat dripping down her temples. Will pushes her hair back over her shoulder, and she kisses him.

"God, yeah, yeah, don't stop, doing so well, fucking me so good, sweetheart," she says into his ear as her body is rocked between them, back and forth on their dicks.

Will watches Darren's cock pump in and out of her ass over the rise of her body, and feels his dick throb. He's close, and the condom is slipping, and he wants to come inside of her, so badly. But she's lost in her own pleasure, fucking herself down onto them while rubbing her clit, focused and whimpering and panting.

She's beautiful like this, and Will reaches up to touch her, to push the hair away from her face and kiss her mouth and murmur down her jawline, just grateful for her, for her passion and for being allowed inside of her, for getting to see her like this, for how she makes him feel. Her eyes open and she smiles wickedly at him, and then a little sweeter when she sees the look on his face.

He loses track of how many orgasms she wrings out of herself, but finally she becomes too sensitive. Her damp, wrinkle-tipped fingers fall from between her legs, and she goes limp against his body. Darren leans over her, kisses her naked back, his hands stroking up and down her sides, her spine, her hips and ass, where he's still buried.

"Tapped out?" he asks.

She turns her cheek on Will's chest and nods, humming under her breath. "Play. I need a minute."

The moment that she isn't between them, Will is drawn into Darren's orbit, and they help each other out of their condoms. Darren straddles his waist, then flips them over so that Will is on top of him, grinning as he winds his arms around Will's broad shoulders.

"Come here, missed you, mm," he says, capturing Will's mouth in a determined kiss.

Mia watches them, smiling, her flushed and sweaty body cooling on the opposite side of the bed.

He lets Darren kiss him, his scratchy jaw and his neck and his chest and his belly, and doesn't protest when Darren slides down the bed and takes his cock into his mouth with a hungry whine.

Mia reaches over to pet Darren's hair as his head bobs, his eyelashes fanning out across his cheeks. She kisses Will while Darren sucks him, while he spreads his legs and loops an arm around her to keep her close, loving her soft skin and the tickle of her hair. She plays with his nipples and spears his mouth with her tongue, stroking his shoulders and his chest and belly as he gets close and begins to pant.

She splays her hand over his abs, breathing against his ear. "Going to come?"

"Yeah, yeah," he rasps, his legs bending, his thighs clenching up, Darren's dark head a blur bobbing up and down, slurping around his dick. "Fuck. Darren. Darren—"

"Pull out and come on his face," she says, and that's all it takes.

Will whimpers and Darren lifts up and he shoots, thick white ropes all over Darren's cheeks and eyelashes and chin and lips, his cock pulsing-jumping over and over again, Mia's hand steadying it at the base, milking it through each shock and rubbing the tip through the mess on Darren's plump, parted lips.

"Mm, messy baby," she drawls, pushing Will's cock back into his mouth. "I think you deserve to come, hm?" She dabs his face clean with a corner of sheet, then tugs him on top of her, puts her legs around his waist and guides his bare cock to her messy pussy. "Come on. Fill me up."

He covers her, pressing her wrists into the bed with a groan, and fucks into her like an animal, restraint gone, patience spent—it's obvious that he wants to fuck her, wants to come in her, and Will loves Darren like this, raw and single-minded, loves watching Darren's tight, wiry body flex as he fucks her so hard that the slap of his balls between her legs sounds almost painful. But she loves it—she's laughing, and gasping as he pounds into her, and Will's dick throbs at the sight.

He buries his face in her neck with a cry when he comes, her hands on his ass as he grind his dick into her, his whole body clenching and shuddering as he pumps her full, his hands and forearms slipping on the bed as he collapses.

Will leans over, strokes a hand down that gorgeous back and ass as it trembles on top of her. Darren whines, lifts his head, and Will kisses him, pets him, cups his cheek. He shifts aside and Mia takes his place, kissing Will, one hand in his hair.

He has no idea why he'd been so worried. This is bliss.

 

*

 

It's birthday celebration number four.

Or five.

The number is debatable, and there have been debates—now, there's only Chris sprawled out over Will's body on a lounge beside the pool in the dark, illuminated by the pool lights and a distant porch light, loose from a variety of relaxing substances but nowhere near as compromised as he had been earlier, his swimming trunks around his knees and Will's tongue on his nipples.

Darren, standing beside them, is pumping his cock in and out of Chris' mouth, and Mia—who has been creeping into the tangle since Chris had grown relaxed enough to not make a joke about it—is behind him, kissing down the small of his back. She pushes his ass up, licks a stripe from his sacrum to his balls, and he stutters out a moan that dies on Will's lips.

"Oh my god," he says, laughing, letting go of Darren and arching his back.

"It's okay," Will says, smiling, thumbing Chris' dimples as they deepen, as Darren's fingers card through his hair in similar comfort.

"Is it okay?" she double-checks, sinking to her knees and sucking kisses over his hole.

"I'm fine," he says, his cock swaying between his legs. Darren slides the head of his dick over Chris' lips, wanting back in. Chris steadies his cock, and gives him a look. "Don't stop."

Something passes between them then, something warm and intimate, like an inside joke, and Will watches, enthralled, as Darren pushes his cock to the back of Chris' throat. "Mm, want it rough, darlin'?" Chris nods around his mouthful, and Darren pushes his fingers into Chris' thick hair and begins fucking his mouth while Mia tongues at his pucker until it gives, then licks inside, holding his cheeks apart, her brightly painted nails standing out boldly against the milk white of his skin.

Will drowns in it all, under Chris, lazily pumping his cock as Chris pumps his. It's indulgent and sticky-slow, tinged with the remnants of good wine and pot, but not hazy, not lacking details.

Chris has been like liquid all night, draping himself over Darren and Will for long, leisurely make-outs and groping sessions, and toward the end he'd even ended up in Mia's lap, laughing and twitching and oversensitive as she'd snuggled him and pinched him and made him laugh, and had even relaxed well enough to make out with her, only half-jokingly.

He's fucking starving for it, and Will knows what he wants—everything. Every cock, every mouth, every hand, wants his body wrecked and his ass and mouth stuffed full, wants to be used, wants to let go here where it's safe, where he's loved and taken care of.

It's his birthday, and Will is going to make sure that he gets everything that he wants.

The noise of the pool filter is the only sound aside from their soft grunts and groans. Mia doesn't hold back now that she has Chris' permission, licks and fingers him open by degrees until he's sliding on his shaking knees, unable to suck Darren properly because he can't concentrate, and when he can't take it anymore he lets Darren's cock go with a wet pop.

"Fuck me?" he asks, staring up at Darren through his eyelashes.

"Shit," Darren breathes, grabbing a condom from the strip on the table beside them.

Mia shifts away from Chris' shining, wet hole to kneel beside the lounge, taking over stroking his cock from Will.

"William," Chris drawls, pressing against his chest. "My mouth is empty. This is unacceptable."

"Understood," Will replies, and smiles as he slides to his feet. Chris kneels up and is on him in the space of a heartbeat, swallowing his cock with a hum. He feels Chris go stiff a moment later, feels him pull back and grunt and dig his hands into Will's waist as Darren presses inside of him.

"Oh, fuck, yes, move," he moans.

Mia gets a squirt of lubricant and puts her hand back on Chris' cock, kissing at his flank as her hand moves. "Less or more, babe?"

"That's good, that's—fine, perfect, god," he whines, when she tugs the crown until it shines.

Chris clutches the head of the lounge, bracing himself when Darren begins to ride him against the bed of it. Will can't help but watch them, a little in awe—they have such knowledge of each other's bodies, and when Darren begins to fuck Chris so hard that the lounge skids across the concrete, Chris' eyes roll back and his mouth spreads in a grin and it's like it's just the two of them, Darren's fingers biting into Chris' waist as he hammers home.

"Yeah," Chris breathes, holding on. "Yeah, yeah, fuck me, fuck me, harder." He groans, and then gasps when Darren finds the right angle. Darren flushes red from his forehead to his chest, going and going and going until he can't go anymore.

Chris lets Will's cock slide free of his throat with a wet noise. "Switch?"

"Huh?" Will asks, his mind fuzzy—how is he expected to concentrate when Chris is deep-throating him?

"Fuck me. Switch with Darren. I want you, too."

"Oh, god, okay."

It takes a moment, fumbling with new condoms, but they manage. Will gets waylaid for a moment anyway, Mia drawing him into a kiss as he slips into the smooth, stretched ass that Darren has left him. It's so odd to bottom out that fast, to see Chris whine and bend into it effortlessly.

"God, fucking come in my mouth, come on," Chris groans, grabbing for Darren, who pulls back, puts his hand on his own cock, and grins.

"Open up," he says, stroking his dick into Chris' waiting mouth.

Will groans and fucks into Chris, wanting to last but knowing that he only has so much left in him. Mia dares to slide between Chris and the lounge, and when she gets there she wraps her mouth around his dick and sucks it, and his whole body seizes up, his muscles and veins bulging.

"Oh, fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck, shit—"

Will can tell that she'd taken him by surprise, because he stops in the middle of it all, clutching Darren's arm and the side of the lounge as Mia's mouth moves wetly up and down his cock.

"I'm gonna come," he gasps, and she just goes harder, faster, and Chris falls apart, his ass clenching up around Will's cock, his whole body stiffening over and over as he comes in her mouth. "Oh, holy shit." She strokes him through it—Will can feel every responding tick of his muscles—and when he's done he's practically on his belly on the lounge, completely drained.

"Keep going," he breathes, fumbling for Darren's cock and shoving his ass back against Will's pelvis. "Come on. It's still my birthday, isn't it?"

Will grins at Darren, who grins back and strokes himself to orgasm all over Chris' mouth and chin with a groan. Chris licks him clean like a cat, purposeful and filthy-determined.

Mia sits off to Chris' side, enjoying the remainder of the show, idly stroking her clit to the sight of Darren on one end and Will on the other. She comes once when Darren does, and a second time when Will does, up off of his toes to get as deep as he can.

They gather around the lounge when it's over, Chris a boneless, sweaty, dirty mess, surrounded by empty wine bottles and ashtrays, grinning ear to ear as he hums "Happy Birthday" under his breath and accepts kisses from each of them in turn. He rolls over when he has the ability to make his muscles work, and Will is there with a damp cloth and a bottle of apple juice.

"You look like a porno," he says, offering the juice.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Chris replies.

Darren is cuddling up to Mia, wrapping a towel around her and nuzzling into her hair.

"So that was new," Chris says dryly, leaning back into Will's arms.

Will smiles. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I shot my load down her throat. I think I'm okay or we would not have reached that point." He smiles. "It's kind of flattering—she always tries so hard to work it in without freaking me out or—sometimes I feel selfish, but, well, it is my birthday, and you guys take care of the things I can't."

"She loves you. We all do."

"And I love you," Chris replies.

They've come a long way.

 

*

 

It's the summer after Darren's second tour. They're three weeks to other obligations, and Chris comes home to find Mia and Darren in the kitchen.

He knows that something is wrong because Darren is sitting on the kitchen floor with Cooper, cuddling the dog while Mia dishes take-out onto plates. They're past needing to schedule time at each other's houses, so Chris is less concerned with their presence and more concerned about the fact that Darren looks like shit. Will is out of town for the weekend, so he guesses that it's up to him to sort this out.

He steps up beside Mia, takes the bottle of white wine from her and opens it himself with a kiss to her cheek.

"Hey," he says, glancing down at Darren wrapped around Cooper, who is snoring and kicking in his sleep. "What's going on?"

"He got in from London, drank half a bottle of whiskey, woke up, and started crying in the shower," she says. "He was on the phone with his mom and Chuck for three hours."

"Oh," Chris breathes. "Oh, shit."

"Yeah. Four months, and he finally hits the wall. I should've seen it coming. I can't get him out of it; he just keeps slipping away. I've tried everything. Kneeling, his collar, the wristbands, rope, every position, every verbal trigger, every favorite song, every white noise machine in the house—he just keeps coiling up on me again."

"Okay," Chris says. "Has he eaten today?"

"Liquids, mostly. Juice, tea. You're good when he gets like this," she says, sitting down at the table. "Contact play, maybe?"

"Maybe," Chris says, hovering in between Darren and the table. "Sometimes that does the trick and sometimes it's the worst choice. Here, let me feed Cooper and we'll see what I can do."

After Cooper finishes his kibble and Mia finishes her food, she offers to take Cooper for a walk.

"Did you bring his guitar?" Chris asks, before she leaves.

"Yeah, it's in the living room."

"Okay, thanks."

"I'll be back in thirty. My phone's on."

Once they're alone, Chris stands over Darren, and runs a hand through his greasy curls. "Sweetheart? Can you say hello to me? It's been a long time. Missed you."

Darren puts his cheek on Chris' knee, and Chris breathes a sigh of relief.

"I need you to do a couple of things for me, okay? Need you to eat some of this chicken and have a drink of water, and then I want to take you upstairs and have a bath with you. Can you do that for me tonight?"

Darren nods against his leg. Chris takes a moment to look at him again as they settle at the table. His eyes are bloodshot and his beard is patchy. He looks as if he hasn't slept.

Chris remembers a time when the last person in the world who Darren would have gone—or been brought—to in this state was himself.

And now here they are.

"Can I stay down here?" Darren asks.

"If I put your plate on my lap will you feed yourself? Need you to try for me."

Darren nods. They eat together quietly, Darren feeding himself, dry-eyed and calm, and when they're through Chris encourages him through the clean-up, and then takes his hand.

"Mia's going to be back soon. Do you want me to invite her to our bath?"

"I've fucked her weekend up enough already," Darren says, so flat that Chris worries. He's only seen Darren like this a few times, and it never fails to scare him.

"Okay. Let's start, and we'll see how you feel later."

Chris has Darren help with drawing the bath, selecting a robe and a towel, and setting out the shampoo that they keep for his hair type at the side of the vanity. He takes his time removing Darren's clothes, forcing his fingers to treat every tug like an artist's brushstroke, and by the time Darren is naked beside the tub, shivering and quiet, Chris is buzzing with the desire to bring him out of this lull. He's too thin, and too pale, and Chris wants to see that smile more than anything.

"Undress me," he says, pronouncing each word carefully, and when Darren's eyes snap to alertly and his fingers rush to obey, Chris' blood sings.

There is nothing quite like being heeded.

Down to his boxer-briefs, Chris cups Darren's elbow, and meets resistance. He stops, tilts his head, and asks, "What's wrong?"

Darren's eyes drift down his body. He shakes his head. "Sorry. Just—been a while." His mouth twitches up. "Forget how fucking hot you are sometimes."

Chris laughs. "Well hello. It's nice to hear your dirty mouth again. Get in the tub, sweetheart."

He makes a show of rolling his underwear down and off, and by the time that he pulls Darren into his lap, his dick is twitching. Now isn't really the time for that, though.

They wash separately, but Chris interrupts the rhythm to wash Darren's hair when the time comes, scrubbing each twist and curl between his fingers until Darren's eyes have fluttered shut and his neck has lost the tension it had been carrying. They soak in the tub, Darren's back to his chest, until the water goes cool, and after the tub is drained Chris towels Darren off and makes him sit on the bathroom counter so that Chris can shave his face smooth.

With every slow, careful stroke, Darren goes looser and looser, and when Chris leads him into the bedroom, his knees are wobbly.

"When was the last time you went under, Darren?" Chris asks, maneuvering him to the foot of the bed where he can kneel comfortably.

"Since before the tour."

"Can you tell me what's wrong, or is it just exhaustion, like the last time?" Chris asks, taking Darren's wrists and crossing them behind his back, far enough to make him feel the pull.

"Wasn't the same," Darren says, letting Chris move him. "I dunno. The energy was off. I'm not cool with the set list or band changes. It just didn't work for me, and no one wants to hear it."

"Do you want to go under? Or do you need me to keep you up?"

"Fuck," Darren whispers, and his eyes glaze over. "Just use me. Please. Just make me feel something. Chris. Fuck, Chris, is Mia still downstairs? God, I was an asshole to her all day—"

"Do you want us both?"

"Feel too bad. No, just—just you, for now."

"Lie down on the bed on your back, arms and legs to the corners."

The moment that the command is issued, Chris can see the relief on Darren's face. He sprawls out like he has no bones or muscles to contend with, and when he's still Chris ties his wrists and ankles to each bedpost with scarves.

He straddles Darren's waist and undoes the knot on his towel.

"Would a blindfold help?" he asks, and Darren shakes his head.

"Like looking at you."

Chris smiles. "Okay." He begins simply, running his palms all over Darren's naked torso, from his trembling jawline to his rising and falling belly, up and down and around a dozen times until he's warm and relaxed on the bed. "Tell me about what went wrong on the tour."

Darren does, for perhaps longer than he realizes. The whole time Chris touches him, rotating areas so that no one spot becomes more sensitive than another, until he's loose in his restraints and his face has gone smooth. It takes a while. He's a talker even like this, even when he's drained, and Chris is typically an impatient listener, but he has a goal here, and every intention of achieving it.

"It's the team. I'm finally fucking realizing that it's just—I need new people. Fuck. I feel so fucking bad, they're like family, but—"

"But you need to do what's best for you and your career," Chris says, swirling his thumbs through the hair between Darren's navel and pelvis. "What's best for your music."

"Did you get highlights again?" Darren asks, tilting his head.

"No. Too much sun."

"I've heard that one before."

"Behave."

"Make me?"

"Nice try. You're not getting punished tonight. You're not in the right head space for that."

Darren smiles. "Will you still use me?"

Chris begins stroking his cock through the towel. "That I can do."

He takes the rest of the evening to stretch himself around Darren's cock, not letting him have any control of the speed or the angle, leaving him tied to the bed from the first brush against his naked dick to the last jolt of his orgasm bleeding from his body to fill the condom deep inside of Chris' ass as Chris rides him into the mattress. They're going to need to wash again, but Chris unties Darren first, rubbing the marks from his wrists and ankles.

Darren is half-asleep, his body glistening with sweat and his eyelids heavy. He'd gone through a variety of emotional phases when they'd fucked—laughing, crying, lost in pleasure, and everything in between—and now he's just dead weight, his fingers on Chris' thighs, his mouth curled up into a smile.

"Mm," he hums, rolling his naked body against the bed. Chris licks his lips, swirling his fingers through the mess he'd made on Darren's stomach.

"With me?" he asks, rough and low, nuzzling into Darren's damp curls.

"I love you," Darren says.

"You're such a sap when I take you apart," Chris replies, smiling. "Mia's downstairs. Do you think she'd want to shower with us? Gonna need two just to get your lazy butt moving now."

"Yeah," Darren says, cuddling closer. "I need to apologize, anyway." Before Chris disappears, a robe thrown around his shoulders, Darren calls out, "Hey. Thank you. I'm sure you had something better to do tonight."

Chris smiles. "I'm where I want to be. It's alright, Darren."

He's surprised by just how alright it is, but he doesn't admit that out loud.

 

*

 

"...why listen to me, it's not as if I haven't lived here forever, and—Will, are you listening? Oh my god, you're not wearing that, are you?"

Will blinks, and does a turn in front of the mirror. "Uh. Yes?"

"Jesus, babe, at least iron the collar."

He sighs. "I look fine. You're making me dizzy. Chris. Chris, just sit still, please."

"How can I? Oh my god, of all the days to get a stress pimple. Seriously."

"You've been freaking out all week. Do you want to do this or not?"

"Of course I do. Darren's parents are sweet. I'm just not sure if I'm ready for this conversation."

"It's been two years. They all kind of know already, but it's important to Darren and Mia—"

"I know. I know. I'm just freaking out."

Will takes Chris' hands, and they sit on the edge of the bed, listening to the distant noise of Brian and Cooper tussling, most likely over something valuable that they'll find in pieces tomorrow.

Chris sighs. "It's our anniversary tomorrow. Yours and mine."

Will plays dumb just to make him laugh. "Which one? The oops-we-hooked-up one, or the Paris one, or the second Paris one, or the—"

"The we-made-it-official-Paris one." He smiles crookedly. "And it just feels weird that we're celebrating...a different relationship, that we're bending over backwards to convince other people of why we've decided to walk this path, and I just—god, Will, I want to be with you tonight."

Will laces their hands. "Everything is moving so fast. Darren's album, Mia's band, your new movie—and here I am, still trying to kick these fucking screenplays into shape, trying to get traction, and I—I know how you feel. Sometimes I just want to pause the world. Sometimes I just want to be with you, sometimes it's simpler. We can—we can reschedule. They're going to be here all weekend. We can join them for another meal, we can spring for tickets to something, surprise them, make it even better. Just say the word and I'll call them."

There's a beat, and then—

"Will you marry me?" Chris blurts, into the silence.

Will's jaw goes slack.

Chris slides off of the edge of the bed to his knees, and pulls a ring box out of his jacket pocket. "I was going to ask you when it was just the four of us at Disney on Sunday. I had all these plans. I wrote dialogue. It was practically a script. Okay. It was a script. I booked a place—I hired _costumed actors_. I've been carrying this thing around with me for weeks." He swallows heavily, and cracks the box, revealing a simple white gold band studded around the edges with diamonds. "You make me so stupid, William. Please say yes."

Will closes his mouth, and then breathes, "Ask me again."

"Will you marry me?"

"One more time. I've been waiting my whole life to hear those words. Give me your best, Christopher Paul."

Chris laughs, readjusting his hold on the ring box and saying it slower. "Will you marry me?"

"If you promise to drag me through what you had originally planned, because I have to see that, then yes. Yes, yes, yes, I will."

In between the crying and the kissing, Chris says, "There's a zombie Goofy. And a t-rex."

Will's mouth drops open. Again.

"I tried to book Kanye, but..."

"Oh my god, shut up, you are—"

Will tackles him onto the bed.

The future is as clear as it has ever been.


End file.
